


Complications

by tehfanglyfish



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Deviates From Canon, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), merlin is swept off his feet - literally, merlin's magic makes life complicated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 14:20:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19152781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehfanglyfish/pseuds/tehfanglyfish
Summary: Sometimes Merlin's magic likes to add complications to his life, especially when feelings are involved.





	Complications

Merlin had come to accept his magic. It was, after all, an intrinsic part of him. To not accept it would be the same as rejecting his arm or leg. But being magic itself, as the druids claimed, did not come without its own set of complications.

Some of those complications were obvious. Camelot had strict laws regarding magic and those who practiced it. Each time the kingdom conducted a census, the number of recorded magic users totaled a very predictable zero. Though Uther boasted about the effectiveness of his purges in driving out those trained in the arcane arts, the data more accurately indicated a fondness for keeping one’s head attached to one’s body.

For his own safety and Arthur’s (the man needed Merlin more than he knew), it was vital that Merlin’s secret remained, well, a secret. Merlin longed for the day when he would no longer have to hide, but understood that the time hadn’t yet come for his full range of talents to be recognized. His magic had other ideas and seemed not to care how difficult it made his life.

Merlin supposed that many of his troubles originated in early adolescence, a trying time in which he learned several new things about himself and the world at large. An extremely awkward conversation with Hunith resulted in interesting revelations about rams and ewes, lambing season, and the young women of Ealdor.

“Mum, I swear I won’t start a farm with any of the girls,” Merlin had promised before making his escape.

That wasn’t quite the message Hunith had wished to impart to her son, but the level of discomfort had reached critical and they seemed to be agreement that she wouldn’t have to worry about any little lambs for the time being.

Adolescence also brought many new discoveries regarding Merlin’s magic. His status as the greatest sorcerer to walk the Earth failed to exempt him from the emotional volatility associated with this stage of human development. Merlin increasingly found his magic reflecting his feelings, sometimes with unintended ramifications.

Old Man Simmons unknowingly experienced the consequences the day a falling tree almost crushed him after he called Hunith a harlot for rejecting his unwanted advances. Will laughed about it.

“The nasty old lecher finally got what he deserved. Did you see the look on his face? I bet he’ll never get the stains out of his breeches. Although you should’ve let it hit him. That man’s a menace to the village. He was after my aunt last week.”

Merlin conceded that it was satisfying, but worried about this unintentional manifestation of his rage. He hadn’t consciously tried to make the tree fall – his magic just took over, acting on its own.

With much effort, especially since he had no one to train him, teenage Merlin eventually leaned to restrain it.

******

His control had been superb until he arrived in Camelot and met an insufferably beautiful prat of a prince. Merlin hated Arthur for all of a week until he realized that he was hopelessly in love with the man. Yes, he was arrogant and headstrong and obtuse. But, Merlin quickly realized that underneath it all, the prince was kind-hearted and genuinely devoted to his people. Arthur wanted to do what was right - though he was oftentimes a bit misguided as to what that might be. The important thing was that Arthur earnestly tried to practice kindness and compassion, something that could be said of few of the other nobles Merlin met during those early days in the castle.

And, if Merlin was entirely honest, Arthur’s bright blue eyes, golden hair, and fighting-fit physique made him breathtakingly gorgeous. Not staring at Arthur required the same level of control it took to hold his magic in check. And like the magic, Merlin knew that these feelings should remain hidden. (In the interest of full disclosure, it should be noted that there were nights when Merlin’s dreams entertained the notion of frolicking with Arthur in a field of wildflowers and bleating sheep.) The magic, however, had other ideas.

******

The problem re-emerged not long after Merlin’s service to Arthur began. Uther, believing that the crown prince needed more responsibilities, mandated that his son take a more active role in council meetings. On the day that Arthur was scheduled to present his first formal report, his nerves got the better of him and he left his notes in his chamber. Arthur realized his mistake right as the meeting was about to start. He began to panic when an out-of-breath Merlin shoved the forgotten parchment in his hands.

“Made it just in time,” he gasped. “This castle has a lot of stairs.”

“Merlin, you are amazing! Truly brilliant!”

It was the single nicest thing Arthur had said to Merlin in the short time they’d known each other.

That afternoon Camelot enjoyed the start of a spate of the most beautiful summer days in living memory. Though lovely, the pleasant weather wouldn’t have been all that remarkable had it not been late autumn.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end. Uther, being Uther, snapped at Arthur over some small and petty thing. Arthur, not yet the refined king of legend, then snapped at his servant over something similarly insignificant.

“Were you raised with sheep, Merlin? Do you even know how actual people live?”

The torrential rains that followed led to an influx of villagers from the surrounding countryside seeking refuge within the castle walls from rising rivers and streams. The cycle repeated itself several times over the next few months, with the people of Camelot beginning to wonder if they should even bother marking the seasons. Eventually Gaius caught on.

“You must get control of your magic.” The old man had a knack for stating the obvious but Merlin decided against telling him this. “How will you be able to remain close enough to protect Arthur if you flood the kingdom every time he loses his temper?”

Merlin had many well-developed counterarguments, most of which were along the lines of “maybe the spoiled ass should learn to express his feelings in a healthy manner and direct his rage where it’s deserved, i.e. Uther.” In the end, he kept them to himself, and instead focused on reining in his magic so that the weather returned to its predictable patterns.

******

All was again well, at least meteorologically speaking, for several years. Merlin learned to hold his own against Arthur’s rages and Arthur in turn learned that emulating Uther wasn’t the best way to sustain the friendship blossoming between them. Regardless of their differences in station, the pair became inseparable. To find Arthur, look for Merlin. To find Merlin, look for Arthur. To find trouble, look for them both.

Thanks in large part to Merlin’s efforts at taming and refining him, Arthur was growing into the man who would become the Once and Future King of prophecy, a process accelerated by the death of Uther. No longer subject to constant criticism, Arthur won the love of the people who really didn’t mind that his policies differed greatly from his father's.

When Morgana’s innate magical abilities manifested themselves, many a Camelot household praised the king’s wisdom in sending his half-sister off to study with high priestesses of the Old Religion living in Mercia. A more foolish king would have created a powerful and bitter rival for the throne by shunning her, the people contended. Coincidentally, Merlin made that very argument to Arthur when pleading with him on Morgana’s behalf.

 *****

Yes, all was well in Camelot… until one day it wasn’t. Nothing bad happened on that particular day. In fact, if one objectively looked at the events that transpired, it would make more sense to describe the day as good. The sun was shining, the birds were singing. There were no threats to the kingdom. The leech tank didn’t need cleaning and Merlin had finished all of his chores early. He might actually have made it to the tavern for an evening of merriment with Gwaine until… The Incident.

It happened like this. Merlin was making his way down a castle corridor, wanting to eat with Gaius before heading out to the Rising Sun. Arthur, on a walk to stretch his legs and clear his head, approached from the opposite direction. The two men were just about to pass each other when it happened.

“That tunic looks nice on you, Merlin. The color really brings out your eyes.”

Merlin stammered out an incoherent reply and then Arthur was gone. Merlin continued on in a daze, feeling exceedingly light on his feet.

Merlin’s stupor persisted through supper. Gaius prattled on about the various afflictions he’d treated that day, the herbs he’d need tomorrow, the fact that Merlin’s soup was getting cold. Merlin heard none of it. His brain could process one thought and one thought only - Arthur Had Noticed His Eyes. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t really feel the hard wood of the bench beneath him.

The meal ended and Gaius went to hug Merlin goodbye, then stopped, his manner shifting from familial to clinical. He circled Merlin, looking him up and down, muttering to himself. Gaius placed a hand on the top of Merlin’s head then brought it up above his own. The physician continued his examination, crouching on the floor, inspecting Merlin’s boots.

“Well, that explains it, my boy,” he said as Merlin helped him stand.

“Explains what?”

“Your increase in height. Your feet aren’t touching the floor.”

A groan was all that Merlin could muster in response.

*****

What should have been a relaxing evening at the tavern turned into a night of scouring through Gaius’s books, magical and medical, fruitlessly searching for an explanation. As the first rays of sunlight came in through the castle windows, Gaius and Merlin were no closer to finding a cause or a cure for Merlin’s affliction.

While Gaius worried, Merlin remained surprisingly calm. He wasn’t in pain. He didn’t feel fatigued - in fact, quite the opposite was true. If this was a magical attack, it wasn’t a very good one as it seemed to do no harm. And since his hovering only lifted him about a half an inch off the ground, Merlin figured it was safe to go about his daily routine.

“The king will be wanting his breakfast,” Merlin explained to a concerned Gaius. “If I skive off work, it will only make Arthur suspicious.”

Nothing out of the ordinary transpired for most of the day. Arthur berated Merlin for being late, though only half-heartedly. The king was so busy that he didn’t seem to notice anything different about his servant. They rushed to council meetings, to training, and to a freeman’s ceremony. Merlin served Arthur dinner, turned down the bed, and was just about to leave when it happened again.

“Merlin,” Arthur called, “I just wanted to say… um… thank you for your help today.”

“Of course, my lord.”

“And,” the king hesitated,” it’s… um… I like what you’ve done with your hair.”

“Er… thank you, my lord.”

Merlin quite literally floated through the castle, past Gaius, and to his bed. He was so taken with the fact that Arthur Liked His Hair that he failed to notice his body wasn’t actually resting on the mattress.

*****

The next few days proceeded in a similar fashion. Rushed mornings quickly became hectic afternoons that ended in exhausted evenings. Each night, just before Merlin excused himself, Arthur would find some other aspect of Merlin’s appearance to compliment - neckerchief, jacket, cheekbones, ears. The king even went so far as to praise Merlin’s “slender, graceful fingers.” How Merlin avoided dying on the spot, he wasn’t sure.

After a week of compliments, Arthur started making offerings of small gifts, though always with a practical explanation. A quill for better speech writing. A new tunic after a suspiciously clumsy Arthur spilled wine on Merlin’s rattiest one. A daisy plucked from the base of a castle wall.

“It will cause structural problems if it grows there,” the king had explained as he shoved the flower at a blushing Merlin.

Gaius later found the bloom pressed between the pages of the grimoire but said nothing.

******

Merlin couldn’t explain the king’s uncharacteristic behavior. Arthur didn’t appear ill or enchanted. He hadn’t suffered any recent blows to the head. The king seemed happier than he’d been in ages. A tiny, guarded part of Merlin dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, Arthur felt something more than friendship toward him.

Of course, that couldn’t possibly be true. A steady stream of the five kingdoms’ most eligible noblewomen regularly attempted to woo the king. Though none had succeeded, it was inevitable that Arthur would one day choose a wife. Lately he’d been spending more time with Guinevere, telling Merlin to leave them “alooone.” Merlin tried his best to support Gwen – she was a dear friend and would make an excellent queen. Accepting that Arthur’s heart could never be his, he shoved aside that sliver of hope.

And anyway, Merlin had other matters to attend to, namely finding a way to come back down to Earth. Which wasn’t to say that floating didn’t have its advantages. Without footfalls, he could race silently through the castle when he was running late. Carrying Arthur’s trays, armor, and laundry didn’t strain him as much as in the past. Merlin’s horse seemed friendlier when they went riding, her own load lightened.

After two weeks with no ill effects, Merlin decided to accept the hovering and stop searching for a cure.

“It hasn’t caused harm and no one has noticed,” he explained to Gaius.

“Yes, but people will eventually catch on. What if you become injured and someone tries to help you?” Gaius said. “Surely there must be a solution. Can you remember anything out of the ordinary on the day that the floating began?”

“No,” Merlin said a little too quickly, dashing out the door before Gaius could say anything else.

*****

As fate would have it, someone did catch on.

The day began like all the others - a rushed progression of royal obligations, Merlin dutifully at Arthur’s side through it all. Throughout dinner, Arthur remained mostly silent, lost in thought. He’d been distracted throughout the day and Merlin, focused on his own chores, assumed affairs of state weighed on the king’s mind. Thoroughly exhausted, Merlin pushed through his final serving duties that night. He was looking forward to lying, or something like it, in his bed.

“If there’s nothing else, my lord, I’ll be off.”

“Yes, yes, of course…” Arthur muttered, still preoccupied.

Merlin made for the door when Arthur called out, “Wait!”

Pushing back his chair, Arthur stood. Head high, shoulders squared, he strode toward Merlin with purpose.

“Merlin,” Arthur inhaled deeply as he began, “over these past few weeks I have wanted to… that is to say… you probably noticed that I…”

Arthur paused, eyeing Merlin suspiciously.

“Have you gotten taller?”

Clearly Gaius possessed the gift of foresight.

“I, um, I don’t think so, my lord.” Merlin tried not to panic.

“It’s just that I always thought we were the same height and yet… anyway, it’s unimportant.”

Merlin let out a breath.

“What I was trying to say is, we’ve known each other for a long time, Merlin. You’ve always been at my side, a loyal servant and a true friend. But lately… this was so much easier when I practiced with Guinevere… lately I’ve been thinking that perhaps it’s time for a change. Things have become… complicated… and...”

“You’re sacking me?!” So that’s what all of the flattery and gifts were about - a way to cushion the blow.

“After all these years! I’ve washed your clothes and mucked your stables and polished your armor. I’ve served your food and written your speeches and kept you out of harm’s way more times than you’ll ever know. I provided the support and you got the glory and it was fine - you are the sodding king after all. I had to watch from the shadows as you flirted with all of those princesses who didn’t really love you, Arthur, not like I do. They just wanted the throne. But there you were, charming them, ignoring me. And I was ok with it because it was always enough just to know that you were safe but then you started saying those things about my eyes and my hair and there was the tunic and the daisy and I had hoped… But now you’re just going to toss me out and…”

Suddenly Merlin wasn’t floating anymore. Caught off guard by his feet touching the floor for the first time in weeks, Merlin tripped and fell, his flailing arms grabbing on to Arthur, pulling the other man down on top of him.

“Are you alright?”

“Like you care,” Merlin muttered as he tried to shift out from under the king.

Not only did Arthur refuse to budge, he began to laugh.

“Arthur, please. This night is bad enough. Just let me up.”

The humiliation combined with exhaustion proved too much - Merlin felt his control slip. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, trying not to cry. Outside, loud thunder rumbled.

“Oh Merlin,” Arthur sighed. “You’ve got it all wrong.”

Merlin felt fingers graze softly over his cheekbones.

“What I have been trying to tell you, you absolute clotpole…”

“Still my word,” Merlin interjected out of habit.

“... is that I love you.”

“Wait, what?” Merlin opened his eyes.

“Look. You may have noticed that I’m not the best with words when it comes to… feelings. I wanted to tell you but didn’t know how. So I spoke with Guinevere and she suggested that I start with small compliments and then work my way toward the rest. Which is what I’ve been doing.”

“So the other night when you said that you weren’t drunk but were intoxicated by my eyes, you really weren’t drunk?”

“Well, maybe a bit. But,” he added quickly, “I meant it. I could get lost in your eyes forever.”

Merlin still struggled to hold back tears, now for much different reasons.

“Anyway,” Arthur continued, “I wanted to tell you for ages. I just… I didn’t think you felt the same and I worried that you might feel pressured but then you had your meltdown just now and you confessed and…”

“Gods above, I did, didn’t I?”

“What I feel for you, Merlin… words aren’t enough...”

Underneath him, Merlin began to tremble as Arthur closed the miniscule distance separating their lips.

The kiss was hesitant at first, almost chaste, both men grappling with the reality that This Was Actually Happening. But then Arthur made a noise that was anything but regal and that was all the encouragement that Merlin needed. He opened his mouth to bite Arthur’s bottom lip, gently at first, then harder when Arthur moaned in response. It took Arthur a moment to catch up, but soon after his tongue sought Merlin’s. It was wet and messy and honest – full of love and longing and desire.

Surprisingly strong arms wrapped around Arthur, as a knee wedged between his thighs. His rational brain shut down and he began to grind against a whimpering Merlin. Arthur wanted more, he needed more, but he wanted to do this right.

“Perhaps the bed,” Arthur panted, then paused in surprise. “Merlin, we appear to be floating about three feet in the air.”

Merlin sighed and tried to disentangle himself from Arthur.

“Ah. Yes. Yes we are. I… I can explain… It’s… um… it’s complicated. I…”

“Merlin,” Arthur cut him off, refusing to let the other man out of his arms.

“Yes?”

“Is it dangerous?”

“No. Not as such.”

“Then save your explanations. I’ve wanted you for so long... It can keep. And anyway,” Arthur murmured as he slid a hand under Merlin’s tunic, “I have some ideas about how we might put it to good use.”

*****

Arthur could only be distracted for so long. Eventually Merlin had to explain everything. The floating, the magic, the dragons, all of it. To say the conversation went easily would be a lie. There was a bit of shouting, some hurt feelings, and profuse apologies. But Arthur wasn’t Uther. He was kinder and wiser and understood why Merlin had chosen to keep his secrets hidden. And anyway, someone who loved Arthur with such care and devotion, saving his life countless times with no recognition, couldn’t possibly be evil.

Arthur had tried to explain all of this in the letter he sent to Morgana informing her that he had rescinded Uther’s ban on magic.

“I hope that when your training is complete you will consider returning to Camelot,” he wrote. “I need a liaison to the high priestesses and, if the truth is told, I miss my sister.”

Hunith visited Camelot soon after Merlin wrote to her, partially because she wanted to celebrate her son’s happiness and partially because his letter was a jumbled mess of excitement and confusion. She wasn’t sure of how to interpret his metaphors about Arthur being the shepherd of the kingdom. When Hunith finally did figure out what exactly had transpired between her son and Arthur (with a few key details omitted), she gave them both her blessing and a bone-crushing hug. For the first time in his life, Arthur understood what it meant to be truly loved by a parent.

Some complications remained. It took many disapproving looks from Gaius, stern lectures from Arthur, and a herculean effort on Merlin’s part to fix the weather. No matter how euphoric Merlin might feel, the farmers of Camelot needed an end to the streak of perfect spring days.

“You have to let it rain, Merlin,” Arthur commanded.

“But you make me so happy.”

The king blushed but insisted on the return of proper seasons.

Of course the magic would only allow Merlin to rein it in so much. It conceded on the weather but refused to relent on other matters, conspiring with Arthur to ensure that Merlin’s feet never again touched ground.

**Author's Note:**

> Not my characters, not my franchise, not making money.


End file.
